iWon't Forget You
by Shadower-Sam
Summary: Sam is labelled as a death convict and Freddie wants to see her desperately. "They say that girls don't like break-ups over the phone, but did they mention that boys hate break-ups over a note? Especially one which says 'Forget me?" A long-shot SEDDIE FTW
1. Forget Me

Sam's POV

"How many times do I have to tell you, I don't want to see him!" I yelled at the officer. Usually, I would respect them at least a little bit, but this time... No way.

"But he seems really determined," he tried to explain.

"No," I declined his explanation. "Just... tell him to go away."

He frowned. "Believe me, we tried."

"Then, hand him this note," I wrote two words on the crinkled paper. The therapist might just kill me for that, but I couldn't care less now. Since I'm already in this stupid prison, I'm as good as dead.

"Okay..." he tried to peep into it.

"Don't even try," I warned.

He just stepped out and locked the door.

I knew I would be trapped here one day. Even though I constantly go to juvie, I don't really end up in a prison like this. This prison is for bad dudes. Like, really bad dudes. Every single day I spend here, I meet new people like rapists, kidnappers and burglars. Of course, there would also be people like me – murderers.

No, Sam Puckett didn't commit the gravest crime in all of human history. But someone did and found a way to frame me for it. So now, I am being accused of killing someone whom I don't even know his name!

"Ms. Puckett," the officer called. "He still wants to meet you."

"Just leave me alone!" I yelled.

"But-"

I interrupted. "Leave me ALONE!"

The prison door closed again. There was the familiar sound of keys turning in the keyhole and the sound of footsteps which always sent shivers up my spine.

I sobbed with my head buried in my arms. I was given the death sentence. Death. There's no way I could escape that. Even if I were to get out of this stinking place and change my name, change my identity, change my address, I would never be able to escape the sentence I have been bound to.

I heard yelling from outside. It was Freddie.

"I have to see her!" his voice echoed down the hallways, into the prison cell and into my heart.

"Forget me, Freddie," I whispered, as though my mumbles would get to him telepathically.

The noises from outside quietened down. My sobs came to a stop along with it.

"Ms. Puckett," the officer appeared again.

"WHAT?" I snapped.

"Mr. Benson left you a note," he came over cautiously after locking the door behind him.

I wiped my face dry. "You don't have to be afraid, you know. I will never be able to escape this place. You and I both know that the death sentence binds me to this prison cell forever. Or, till I die."

He relaxed a little and handed the note to me. "That young man seems to be very determined, Ms. Puckett. You're very lucky to have a boyfriend like that."

"He's not my boyfriend," I replied softly. "At least... not anymore."

I held on to the note with both my hands, careful not to dirty it. The officer was looking down at me, anticipating the time when I read the note.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" I asked.

"Oh, sorry," he left. The officer knew me very well not to be offended by my words. After all, I was a regular in juvie.

Slowly and steadily, I opened the note. It was written with a beautiful handwriting, one which I had missed so much. The note was written on a piece of ordinary paper, but the paper was tainted with a faint smell of sanitizer, the dork's signature smell. It was wet on some parts of the paper and the water came in drops.

They were tears. His tears.

_Dear Sam,_

_How are you? I'm fine. Okay, honestly, I'm not. I've missed you everyday since you were imprisoned here. Every night, I would be jolted up by nightmares of you walking up to the noose, just to find my pillow wet and you not beside me. I miss you, Sam. And you know it._

A tear fell off my cheek and landed right next to his on the paper.

_Today, when I came to look for you, I thought you would be excited to see me. But when you gave me those two words, they pierced through my heart like a knife through a piece of plastic. I couldn't believe that after what we've been through, you would break up with me like that. They say that girls don't like break-ups over the phone, but did they mention that boys hate break-ups over a note? Especially one which says 'Forget me'?_

_Remember that fateful night at the lock-in?You were brave enough to kiss a dork. You didn't care if anyone else was looking through that window. And you didn't mind the kids at Ridgeway who laughed at us as we walked through the school holding hands. But why won't you come out and see me? Is Sam Puckett afraid to face the world? Afraid to face me?_

"I'm not afraid, nub," I smiled at his assumption. "I just don't want you to waste your time on a dying person."

_We've been through so much together. I still remember the first time I introduced you to my mom. She totally freaked out and started sending me to a psychologist. You thought you lost your mind too after you kissed me. I had to go find you at the mental hospital and convince you that you weren't crazy. We went out after that and we had so much fun together. Don't you remember?_

_Sam, you don't have to face this alone. I will always be here for you. I know that you're innocent and I believe that there is justice in this world. You will be saved. I just know it._

"I've been given a death sentence," I smiled again at his stupidity. "I will never be saved."

_The cheesy Twilight guy once said that he'd fight for his love till her heart stopped beating. But for me, I will fight for you till MY heart stops beating. Because I love you, Sam. And nothing else matters anymore._

_Love,_

_Freddie._

I broke into sobs again. No matter how I fight back, my tears seem to find its own way to escape from my shutting eyelids.

"_I love you," _he's said that many times. But none of them were as comforting as this.

"I love you too," I hugged the note gently. Folding it back neatly, I placed it in the pocket at my chest, because I know that it will be kept the closest to my heart.


	2. Two Words

Sam's POV

'Live everyday like the last', that's what they always say. But what will you do on your last day of living? Eat like a pig? Spend it with the love of your life? Or will you do some charity work for the children?

For me, I would sit in my prison cell, holding on to a digital clock. The red lights that blinked every few seconds were counting down to my death. And from what I know, I have two days to live.

"Samantha Puckett," an officer called. "The counsellor is here."

This officer seemed to be transferred here. She was stern and her face carried a look of disdain. "Tell her that I don't want to see her."

She frowned. "You have no choice."

"I don't want to meet anyone," I stared down at the clock, not having my eyes leave them for even one second. "Just leave me alone."

"Ms. Puckett, you're going to disappear from the face of the earth in two days. Why not face death bravely instead of sitting here and hiding from the world? What have you got to lose if you were to meet the counsellor?"

My eyes tore away from the clock as I put it down beside me. "My dignity."

"Come with me," the officer dragged me out of the cell with much force. I tried to break free, but I was too weak. The food in the canteen had hardly any meat to supplement my strength.

"What are you doing?" I struggled. "Let me go!"

"Prison guards don't receive orders from prisoners," she got two other guards to drag me out of the cell.

I was placed on a seat in a room, different from the other visiting booths. There was no glass between us and I was handcuffed.

"Carly?"

"Sam," she smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," I tried not to look at her in the eyes so she wouldn't know that I'm lying. "What brings you here, counsellor?"

She sighed. "Freddie has a message for you."

"Another note?" I asked.

"No, this time, I'm going to tell you what he said," she seemed to have memorised the whole thing by heart, for she was speaking with confidence and feeling. "Here goes:

_Sam, I know that you're still afraid to see me. So, I got Carly to talk to you. She's a prison counsellor, you can't resist meeting her. Today, the dork is going to tell you a story._

_Once upon a time, there was a nerdy mole which loved all things techy. He was ugly and had no friends. Everybody teased him and bullied him. He felt very lonely. Then, one day, a chatty ugly duckling came along. Though the ugly duckling also made fun of him, she was willing to be his friend. She warmed the heart of the little mole._

_Just like fairytales, the nerdy little mole grew up. The spell was broken and he turned into a prince. When he met his Snow White, he forgot all about the ugly duckling. The ugly duckling was very sad. She kept reminding the prince that Snow White never really loved him and she only took him as one of her dwarfs. But the prince did not believe her. Even though she was misunderstood, the ugly duckling stood by the prince._

_Many things happened and the prince finally awoke from his dream. He also realized that the ugly duckling had turned into a beautiful swan. _

_Just when they overcame all difficulties and were about to lead a happy life together, a spell was cast on the swan. She fell to the ground and could never fly again. She didn't want the prince to see how ugly she would look as death approached her._

_Without a second thought, the prince thrust a sword into his own chest. Blood gushed out and the prince turned back into a mole. He said to the swan, "I'm uglier than you now. Do you still want me?"_

_The swan replied. "But I am dying, am I still fit to have you?"_

_The mole clutched her hand tightly. "Can't you see that I'm bleeding? You're hurt, but I'm even more hurt. Even if we had only one more day to live, I wouldn't live in vain as long as we're together."_

I shook at the last sentence. "Did he... did he really say that?"

She nodded.

My heart was aching. It was pounding so loudly and hard, as though it was about to escape from my chest. It hurt.

"Ms. Puckett," the officer called. "Your time is up."

"Sam," Carly held me back. "Freddie really loves you. Please, meet him, will you?"

"Two words," I choked. "Forget me."


	3. Missing You

Sam's POV

Two hours to live. Two hours.

"Ms. Puckett. You have a visitor," the nasty officer called into my cell.

"Tell him to go away," I stated.

"It's a her," she said indifferently.

I frowned in realization. "Does her name start with a 'C' and end with a 'Y'?"

"Er... No..." she thought about it for a while. "I think she's your mother."

"My mom?" I asked. "What's she doing here?"

"You'll find out when you see her, right?" she asked.

I sighed as she brought me to the booth.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" I sat down, picking up the phone.

Her mascara stained shirt was body-hugging, so it was probably a Saturday. I had lost track of time while I was in here. There was no use in counting down to doomsday when they told you the number of days you had left to live every morning.

She choked on her tears, the side of her that I don't get to see often. "How's life, kid?"

"I'm fine," I fought back the droplets of water that were creeping down to the corner of my eyelids. I was practically blaming gravity then. "How's your boyfriend... Jimmy?"

"Timmy," she corrected. "We broke up."

"Was it because of the baseball bat near the broken vase?" I asked.

She nodded, tears still rolling down her cheeks like a waterfall. She never cried so much when dad left us years ago. All she said was 'he better not come back or I'll pound him'.

"How many times have I told you? Quit the habit of smashing ceramic with the bat or you're never going to get a good boyfriend!" I adviced her. "I can't always be there to clean up your mess after your little hobby!"

She cried even harder. This time, her lipstick was smudged.

"Okay, okay, stop crying," I tried to comfort her. "Hey, didn't Timmy give you the latest PearPhone?"

"Yeah... Why?" her wailing turned into soft sobs.

"Can you take a picture of me?" I asked.

She took out her phone. "Sure, what do you need it for?"

I smiled at the camera as she took a few shots, avoiding her question. "Can I take a look at them?"

She tilted the camera so that I could see the pictures through the glass. She scrolled through them slowly, still sobbing away.

"Wait," I made her stop scrolling when she came to a picture I was satisfied of. "I look natural in this picture. It'll look good at the funeral-"

"What are you talking about? We're lodging an appeal to court," she started wailing again. "You'll be fine, Sam. You'll definitely make it out of here!"

I forced out a smile. "Don't cry. You know I hate to see people crying."

"I'm sorry I treated you so badly in the past," she apologised. "But I really love you and... it was for your own good... I didn't... I didn't want you to... to follow your mother's footsteps..."

"I understand, mom," the tears are struggling against my resistance.

"And I'm sorry that... that I always compared you... to Melanie," her face was drowned in smudged makeup by then. "I wanted you to be... a better person..."

She buried her head in her arms, leaving the phone beside her. I tried to shout into the phone, but she couldn't hear me as the phone was too far away from her ears. The more she cried, the more pain I felt in my heart.

I forced another smile. "Mom, why not you put that PearPhone to good use and take a picture of the both of us?"

"Okay," she wiped her tears away and snapped a photo of us. "Here."

I took a look at the shot and frowned. "Why aren't you smiling? You look more beautiful when you smile."

She forced out a smile, still wiping all the smudged make-up off from her face. It was a once-in-a-lifetime event – looking at Pam Puckett while she isn't wearing any make-up. And this once-in-a-lifetime event is going to be my last.

"Come on, let's take another picture," I urged. "This time, we're both going to smile."

She snapped another picture of the both of us and showed it to me. She was giving me the smile she often used when Melanie came home with straight As. I'm going to miss that smile.

"Mom," I started. "Whenever you feel lonely, or when you start to miss me. You know I'll always be up in heaven, looking upon you. I may not be there physically, but I'll be there spiritually."

"You'll be fine, kid," she tried to convince me.

"I love you, mom," even the strongest dam can never hold a tsunami, and my eyes soon caved in. Tears were streaming down my cheek as I placed my palm onto the piece of glass. Seeing my action, mom decided to imitate me.

She smiled the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. "I love you too, kid," and her palm touched the glass.

Through that touch, I felt something warm. It was love, and it was going to be something I miss for the rest of my afterlife.


	4. Counting Down

Sam's POV

One more hour to live.

I held the digital clock in my hands tightly. My palms stained it with sweat, leaving it slipping through my fingers time and again.

Just like reality.

"Why are you letting time slip by?" the officer asked. She seemed to be more sympathetic with me now. "Let him meet you. He's been waiting outside since morning. Even your mom was persuading you to meet him."

"I don't want to leave any longing for this world even as I leave," I replied, eyes not leaving the clock. "I don't want to see anyone crying for me. Not even myself."

She sighed. "You only have an hour to live before your execution. The appeal had failed. Why don't you just let him see you?"

"And see me like this?" I asked. "All I want is to leave this world with a smile. No mourning, no crying, no tears-"

"And leaving him with regrets?" she interrupted. "Don't you think you'll break his heart even further if you leave without seeing him just one last time?"

I ignored her. The clock was beeping as each second passed.

Fifty minutes.

"You've been holding onto that clock for days, never letting it out of your sight. But what can you gain from doing that?" she asked.

I was holding on to time. Clinging on to it, even though there was no use. In just fifty minutes, I would leave this world with nothing, nothing but an accusation. I never even met the man before, and once I woke up, I was charged guilty just because I was holding the murder weapon when they found me.

"Just see him," she said.

"I will," I replied. "Take me to him. Now."

I didn't change my mind, nor did I cave in. I wasn't going to let him wait there forever. I couldn't.

"Sam!" he jumped and picked up the phone which was only connected to mine.

I sat down, picking up the phone, trying to avert his gaze. "What do you want?"

"Sam, don't give up hope," he started. "Even though we've lost the appeal, I know that somehow, you'll be proven innocent."

"Don't be foolish," I frowned, checking the clock in my hands. They let me bring it along. "I only have forty minutes to execution."

"Don't be so pessimistic," he was about to tear. "Things are going to be just-"

I interrupted. "Forget me."

"What?" his optimism faded into shock.

"Forget me," I repeated. "You'll get yourself a better girl, get married and have cute children."

"Sam..."

I continued. "You'll live in a huge house with your family and you'll be rich and happy. When you're old, your filial children will provide for you and you'll live happily in a retirement home at the countryside with-"

"Sam!" he shouted and placed his palm on the glass. "Can't you tell that I love you?"

Tears were falling from our eyes. Drip-drop, drip-drop, tick-tock, tick-tock.

"I will never forget you, nor will I get myself a better girl. There's no one better than you, and I will only marry you, even if you were to die in the next hour."

"What can you gain from marrying a dying woman?" I sniffed.

His expression softened. "I will be the happiest man alive."

My eyes tore away from the clock to look into his eyes. Those eyes had been longing for contact with mine, and the more I avoided them, the more they teared.

"Even if we were left with just one day, one hour, or even one minute, as long as we're together, I'll have no regrets," he smiled – our hearts were finally connected.

"Beep beep, beep beep," the alarm sounded. It broke our connection and I felt myself jolting back to reality.

"Ms. Puckett," the officer called. "It's time."

I looked at the time on the digital clock. Half an hour left.

I forced a smile. "Like I said... Forget me."

Two officers handcuffed me and brought me away from the booth. I could feel more tears trickling down my cheeks. But I didn't care. I couldn't care anymore.

I tried to resist myself from turning back – I couldn't bear to see his sad face. I knew I wouldn't be able to tear my eyes away from him if I looked back. So, I continued walking with the muffled sound of his voice, screaming my name.

Screaming for me.

I was locked back in the cell again as the prison guards and officers prepared for execution.

The clock beeped with every passing second. Twenty minutes left.

"Ms. Puckett," an officer called. I've never seen this officer before. Well, it's still not too late to meet new people. "Please follow me."

"Where to?" I tried to start a conversation to take my mind off of the execution.

"The execution room," he replied.

I glanced at the clock unconsciously. It hung from my cuffed wrists.

"I'm sorry," he apologised.

"It's okay," I forced a smile. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Dennis," he said sternly.

I nodded. "My name's Sam. But... you probably know that already."

He chuckled. "I've never seen a dying woman who's as optimistic as you."

"We always have to be prepared for the worst, don't we?" I thought of some lame quote from a movie.

"True," he stopped. "We've arrived."

I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes left.

The noose hung from a tall ceiling, just two metres away from the ground. There was a platform below it with a flight of stairs. The platform had a square cut out, right under the noose.

"It will be a private execution," he stated. "Only a few of us will be around."

I tried to smile. "No problem."

Two officers brought me up the stairs to the platform. One of them looped the noose around my neck and tightened it. I couldn't deny the fact that I was nervous, or even scared. I was going to lose everything I ever had. And I was sure I was going to miss them.

My mom.

Melanie.

Gibby.

Mrs. Benson.

Spencer.

Carly.

A tear rolled down my eye as I thought about the one I would miss the most.

Freddie.

I had asked one of the officers if I could hold on to the clock while I did my sentence and he agreed. Dennis was watching with grief. The lady officer was around the platform, avoiding my gaze as she looked at the officer at the lever – the one I was most familiar with.

I glanced at the clock. Ten seconds left.

9...

I knew it was really the end.

8...

But I never imagined it to be so painful.

7...

Not the noose, tight around my neck, but the pain in my heart.

6...

I was going to miss the countdown that started everything. But never did I expect it to end it all.

In 5... 4... 3... 2...


	5. Forget Me Not

Sam's POV

"Wow," I exclaimed. "I can see where I live from up here."

An angel ran past, then back to me.

"Buzz off," I snapped as she picked at my hair.

You might have thought that I am already dead, but I can't blame you. I once thought I was going to die, but I managed to escape the gates of Hell.

Where am I, then, you ask? I am on a really tall building, also known as Freddie's office block. It's really really tall. I mean, you can almost see the entire Seattle from up here. The angel that ran by was just a kid dresssed in a costume. Well, what can you expect? It's Halloween after all!

"Hey Sam!" Carly came over. "Nice costume!"

"I know, I made it myself," I grinned. "But I can't say the same for you, Carls. That costume is..."

"Spencer refused to make it for me, so I had to make it myself..." she explained. "Is the hole back here noticeable?"

I checked it out. "Nah, it's still okay..."

"My costume looks terrible, doesn't it?" she asked.

"Well..." I held back from making any snide comments before I hurt my best friend's feelings. "Look on the bright side. At least it looks much better than the bunny you drew on iCarly last time!"

She looked as though she was about to collapse from embarrassment.

"Look! It's Gibby!" I pointed at the man in a pirate costume. Classic Gibby. "Go talk to him."

"No!" she exclaimed. "You know what happened between us! It's going to be awkward!"

"At least it beats sitting here and wallowing in self pity!" I urged. "Melanie told me how bad you felt after dumping him. Just go there and apologise or something! Maybe you guys can get back together!"

She frowned. "There's no hope for us, Sam!"

"Yes there is!" I pushed her towards the Gibster. "Go there and make a move!"

Weird, I sounded just like her when we were still in high school.

"Hey Puckett," a familiar voice rang from behind me. "How's the party going?"

"Great, Benson," I smiled. "Nice costume."

"I know," he looked down at his princely outfit. "It's still better than the flashlight one though."

I grinned. "You ain't still mad, are you?"

"About what?" he asked.

"Having to cancel iCarly," I explained.

"It wasn't your fault," he sighed.

I sat down on a nearby couch. The talk was making me all tired after standing up for so long. "If it weren't for me, you guys wouldn't have had to go around searching for witnesses and evidences to prove me innocent. Then iCarly wouldn't have been cancelled."

"It's not your fault," he repeated, sitting down on the couch next to me. "You were made the scapegoat. If we really have to blame someone, blame the real murderer, not you."

"But don't you miss the website and stuff?" I asked. "Don't bother lying. I've seen you go online to at least once a week to visit the old archives. You miss our weekly webshows, don't you?"

"I do," he sighed. "But I'm a busy man. Even if it weren't for your case, we would have cancelled the webshow anyway."

I smiled. "I guess."

"Hey," he grinned. "Don't you think it's time?"

"Time for what?" I asked.

"I mean, we've been dating for so long," he explained. "And we've been through so much together. Don't you think it's time for us to... you know... stay together like this forever?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Fredward Benson, are you proposing to me?"

He laughed.

"Without a ring and the proper procedures?" I was resisting the urge to laugh. "I've always imagined a proposal with a bouquet of flowers, a ring and some cheesy line which I would pretend to hate. But I never thought it would turn out like this."

He clapped his hands in the air as if he was asking for a waiter. Just like the movies, some guy came over with a box in one hand and handed it over to Frednub. He held a bouquet of flowers in the other.

It was a little white box with an elegant purple ribbon tied around it. A box that size could only be for one thing.

A ring.

"Sam," he started. "Do you know what's your placing in my heart?"

"What do you mean? I'm not number one?" I teased.

He shook his head, smirking.

"Watch what you say, Benson," I warned, parading my fist in front of his face. "Now, what's my placing?"

"You have no placing," he continued, holding my fist with both of his hands. "Because you're not number one. You're the only one."

I blushed.

"I love the way you smile, the way you act like you don't care but you actually do. I love the way you punch me with little strength even though you know you can knock me out. I love the way you laugh when you're happy and cry when you're sad. But the thing I love most about you is that you're the first kiss I've ever had," he attempted to open the box with some difficulty.

"Let me have it," I laughed at his nervousness as I took it and gave it a little tug. The box was opened. "Sorry."

He smiled. "Will you marry me?"

A crowd had gathered around us. They were cheering and urging me to say 'yes'. I couldn't fight the crowd... And like what they always say 'If you can't beat them, join them'.

"Yes," I grinned and hugged him.

Who says you can't accept a marriage proposal in the middle of your future-husband's Halloween party?

The guy who held the bouquet of flowers handed them over to Freddie. The dork was grinning from ear to ear as he passed it over to me.

After a closer look, I realised that the flowers were forget-me-nots. One of my favorites.

"Forget-me-nots?" I asked. "Who gave you that idea?"

"You are one of a kind, so I decided against roses," he smirked. "And forget-me-nots fit the occasion perfectly. Remember those two words you gave me while you were still locked in prison?"

I laughed at the memory.

"These will serve as a reminder for you," he whispered. "To never forget me."

THE END


End file.
